


Bitty Shoes

by Sephypsycologist



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Bitty reader, Gen, Neurodivergent Reader, reader is written using my stims and avoidances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephypsycologist/pseuds/Sephypsycologist
Summary: you're a bitty reader, so you're supposed to get a nice home. you really hope that happens
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Bitty Shoes

You’d had the typical upbringing for a bitty reader. You’d been born with intelligence around a normal human 4 year old, fully aware. You’d been formed from donated soul energy gathered from willing humans and harvested tissue from another willing donor. That made you essentially the child of your two donors, and you were quite pleased with yourself for the first little while.

After being checked over by a doctor and given clothes for your tiny body, you went to school. It took about two years for a bitty reader to grow to adulthood, so you were educated in that time. School was strangely both your strength and your weakness. Somehow, in some way, you were not like the other ‘children’ around you. You were more interested in reading than talking, when you did talk to others they called you strange, and you did not want to hug and cuddle like they did. No, you just wanted your blanket, your books, and new things to learn.

Learning was what you did best, learning about books, about math and science and any other subject your teachers would give you books on. Your reading level shot past the required one for passing school, and you actually ‘graduated’ six months before you were able to be put out for adoption.

That made the others hate you.

“Why are they here if they don’t have to learn?”

“They won’t talk to me!”

“They’re so strange, off by themselves.”

“Why do they cry every time we have to eat?”

That was another thing. You couldn’t eat the same things as the others. While they adored the occasional steak or hamburger treat, along with most of the ‘healthy’ style meals you got daily, it was always a terrible time for you. All the meat products smelled so strongly they made you nauseous, vegetables were so bitter you gagged, and desserts were sickeningly sweet. No matter what you tried, it never ended up being something you could eat without having a panic attack.

That’s when you were removed from the tank with the others, when you refused to cooperate any more with being force fed things that made your whole being scream.

Alone. That was fine, the others didn’t like you anyway. But seeing them from your ‘punishment’ tank, seeing them laugh and play and hug….it hurt. You wanted that. You wanted so badly to be normal, like them, to be able to eat and understand when to talk and have others be your friend. But it just wasn’t possible.

So you gave up, and curled into your isolation cube, drank the flavorless nutrition smoothie they gave you, and just flinched when the ‘special needs’ sticker was attached to your evaluation paper at your final exam before sale. You knew that meant you were never getting adopted.

No one wants a defective bitty.

\--

Razzy was concentrating on the road, but he was not happy.

Yes, he knew it was dangerous to go out, but Classic just did not understand. His brother was lonely, didn’t know how to get along with the others, and was quickly spiraling into depression. He had his false identification, plenty of human currency, and a mission. His brother needed someone who would love him and support him when Razzy wasn’t there. That’s why Syrup’s lanky body was wrapped tight to his as they drove his motorcycle through town to the closest bitty shop to the hotel. Syrup was getting a Reader today.

As soon as they parked, Razzy unclipped his helmet and murmured, “Now, brother, I’m going to ask we put on our public personas, but remember, this is for you. Find someone you like, that feels right for you, and I’ll work it into the act. Remember, this is just for show and I love you.”

“I know, bro,” the smile Razzy received was shy but grateful, “but thanks for the reminder. I think I can play dog for a little bit.”

“GOOD BOY,” Razzy grinned as he put on his metaphorical mask. “NOW, MUTT, LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH. WE MUST FIND A BITTY WORTHY OF THE MALEFICENT RAZZBERRY.”

“yes, m’lord,” Syrup quietly answered, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching behind his brother, hood of his fluff-lined zipped hoodie covering his eye sockets in shadow. He licked his gold fang in a manner most would find intimidating, but for him, it was a nervous tic. Would any of the little humans like him? Would they want to deal with his anxious personality at all? could they even see past the façade that he and his brother had to put up in public?

\---

You were reading again. The same book, the only one they let you have out here on the shelves.

“No more books until you learn to make friends. No more books unless you learn to eat normally. No more books unless you talk more.”

Always with the rules. You hated the rules. The lady at the front said it was “for your own good” and “nobody will adopt an antisocial bitty!” but you weren’t antisocial. You just didn’t understand how being social worked and that scared you.

At least you still got your blanket. It was soft, kept your hands busy holding it, and felt nice when you covered yourself up in it. You’d tuck head in under it, too, and sigh. It felt so nice when the world was just what was under your blanket.

So there you were, reading “Little Red Riding Hood” for the 4,561st time, when two skeleton monsters came in. And you were ELATED.

Skeletons! You ADORED skeletons, they were your favorite part of Halloween, which was your favorite holiday. It was the only time you felt normal, felt like you could be comfortable with others, because it wasn’t weird if you wanted to be a ghost, or a pumpkin, or a vampire that day. Unlike the other 364 days a year when not feeling human was considered wrong.

For once, you were at the front with the others in the big tank to look at the visitors. The crowd and people touching your shoulders made you really uncomfortable, but you HAD to look at them.

“HUMAN SHOPKEEPER. I AM HERE TO ACQUIRE A BITTY READER.” The shorter skeleton had such a big voice, you almost but your hands over your ears, but you’d been scolded for that once already today. “MUTT, GO DO YOUR OWN RECONOSANCE WHILE I DISCUSS THIS WITH THE SHOPKEEP,” he snapped to the taller one, who just nodded and headed into he aisled and toward your tank.

Ooh, he was so tall, and you could only just see his jaw and the ridge of his nasal bone in the deep shadow of his hood while he was standing. He pulled a little bottle out of his pocket and you thought it might be alcohol at first until the smell of it hit you. Maple syrup. And of course you smelled it before anybody else did. But you watched in fascination as the skeleton put the little opening of the bottle between his sharp teeth and drank it dry. You were so focused you didn’t even hear the other one yelling anymore, just looking at this skeleton’s fingers and how a soft burnt orange light seemed to hold them together if you looked very closely. Magic. Oh you really really wanted to look at his hands closer. To see what they felt like, if you’d like the texture or not, same with his hoodie and the fur lining it.

His voice was quiet, almost a drawl like the people from the American South in movies, “so me’n m’lord need a bitty reader. Gotta be quiet ‘n not mind staying around me for a long time. we live in the ol’ hotel by the mountain, so can’t be too fond of the city either. Also, it’d be great if ya liked medicine or art or somethin’ like that, cause that’s what I’m all about. M’lord just asks that you be clean and polite. That’s it.”

You could do that. You could do all of that, if you could just speak up. But no, of course you were too nervous to speak up, of course you began to get scared of leaving what you knew. But you HATED it here! Anything was better than here! But no, you felt yourself tearing up and shaking even as you leaned as close to the glass as possible.

And of course he wouldn’t pick you anyway, your mind hissed, because of the bright yellow scrubs you had to wear that showed everyone you were SPECIAL NEEDS, damaged goods, god you hated yourself.

Your SOUL cried out for help.

\---

Razzy and Syrup both tensed at that sharp, anguished pulse of energy.

A Cry for Help, a last act of desperation when all hope was lost.

Syrup focused in on the little bitty in the yellow clothes, not even bothering with the rest as he saw all the signs he knew by heart. Shaking, crying, holding tight to the book in their hand and the blanket around their shoulders as they sank to the ground in a ball. A panic attack, if the flushed face and shallow breathing were anything to go by.

“guys, is it okay if I touch them?” he whispers to the other readers and feels anger as they just shrug. They don’t know? They don’t want to help? Syrup shakes that off and very gently scoops them into both his hands. “hey now. ‘s okay. dunno what’s goin’ on, but I want ya ta breath with me, okay?”

They nod, good, they could still hear him and respond. “gonna breathe in for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight, yeah? can ya do that?”

“mmhm,” they squeak, and he counts very slowly for them, cycle after cycle as he hears his brother tearing into the shop keeper for allowing a being to get to such a state that they had to Cry for Help. This was not their home world, where such Cries were a pitiful and daily occurrence, and feeling it here, where Classic had said it was safe and peaceful, made Syrup’s marrow boil.

When they’d calmed, Syrup gently rubbed their back through the blanket, “did good. how’s about we get out of here and go back to my place? got some chisps that’ll give ya some’a that salt back. Gotta balance out how sweet ya look, lil’ darlin’.”

The bitty blushed, the tears returning but this time with a flustered smile as they covered their face. His soul pulsed warmly at that. Yeah, this was the one. He kept up the back rub, feeling them lean into it as he headed back to the counter.

“AND I SWEAR, IF I SO MUCH AS HEAR A WORD ABOUT THIS SORT OF THING HAPPENING HERE AGAIN, YOU WILL BE REPORTED TO THE GUARD FOR ABUSE OF VULNERABLE BEINGS!” Razzy huffed and turned, “DID YOU MANAGE TO FIND A SUITABLE PET, MUTT?”

“yes, m’lord, if you approve of them,” he carefully adjusted his hold on them, showing the slightly more comfortable bitty to his brother.

Razzy looked them over and felt his soul squeeze softly in recognition. The tear stains, the blanket, the way they shied away from his gaze, this was the bitty who had called for help, and they were so like his little brother when they had been younger.

“I SUPPOSE THEY’LL DO. SHOPKEEP, DO SOMETHING TO REDEEM YOURSELF AND DRAW UP THE ADOPTION PAPERS FOR THIS LITTLE YELLOW ONE.”

“S-Sir,” the shaken human behind the register had to swallow several times in order to get the words out, “that reader is special needs. They won’t be as loving or friendly as a normal reader, and they have obedience issues.”

Razzy’s eye lights went out and his voice turned softer and ice cold, “Do I Look Like a Monster Who Can’t Handle a Challenge, Human?”

“N-no sir!”

“THEN I SUGGEST YOU DO AS I SAY!” Razzy ordered, and getting exactly what he wanted as Syrup pulled the bitty close to his shoulder and began to whisper. He knew that was his brother reassuring the bitty that everything was fine, but he had to keep up his harsh exterior.

Reputation and good acting had saved their lives Underground and by stars he’d use it to save this bitty now.

\--

You watched the loud skeleton through the fluff around your new friend’s coat as you’re cuddled close to him. He had three lines carved into his skull across his left socket, and wore black armor. He also had a very bright magenta bandanna, and had enough money to easily buy all the things you needed to be comfortable. Wow, that was a lot.

“hey,” the one holding you murmurs, “we’re gonna have to put you int a travel box for safety’s sake since we’re on a motorcycle. I’ll hold onto you while m’lord drives.” You nod, enjoying the warmth of his breath and its sweet maple scent. Maple syrup was something you could tolerate the smell and taste of, so you liked it.

“okay.” You unintentionally nuzzle his shoulder as you relax back, but you decide that’s fine. This skeleton is being very kind to you, and for the first time in your short life, you feel completely comfortable with a new person. His bones are like a warm stone, in texture and feel, but the joints between have more give to them, as if something is padding them that you can’t see. Magic. You like the way his hands feel on your back.

The travel box is cardboard, with holes in it, but you get your blanket and a cushion that is among the items the brothers buy for you. You don’t have to wear yellow anymore. No more mark of how strange and unworthy you were. You could wear any color….

“Mutt” was the one holding your box in the store and he relayed your clothing choices to his brother when the question, “HOW THE BLAZES AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE AMONGST THIS RABBLE?” rang out at the massive selection.

You got to be red now. Red like roses and cherries and crayons, like your favorite candy, like the light through your closed eyelids. Red and black and grey and purple. Maybe a green or two. But no more yellow.

Well, at least you were with someone comfortable to you.

Mutt’s fingers held the box tightly, you barely felt yourself shift as he moved, so it was a surprise with the loud roar of an engine covered up every sound as your world began to vibrate wildly. There was no helping this, you yelled and used your blanket to cover your ears in bunches of fabric, burying your face in your cushion. Nope, no way, you did NOT enjoy motorcyles. That had to be what this was.

Everything was loud and shaking and you just could not feel secure, not liking the light you saw shifting rapidly around you as you were tipped and tumbled with turns. Thankfully, the turning was smooth but sometimes was just too dramatic for you to hold your place, but everything slowed down even as it got rougher. The light became a smattering of dots and shadows, your scattered mind unable to connect it to driving under tree cover.

The driving sounds added a crunching to them, and it took a moment for you to realize that it was because this was a gravel or dirt road. You just held your blanket and book tight, having already been smacked on the arm by the book when it was loose at the start of the ride. You didn’t need any more bruises.

Still, as the vehicle slowed and stopped, you were so thankful. Your stomach was churning with anxiety and motion sickness, so you stayed quiet, just trying to settle yourself.

\--

Getting off the bike, Razzy and Syrup looked up at the entrance to the hotel.

Razzy sighed, “Alright, brother, we’ll keep the act up till we get to our suite, then we’ll brief the bitty on things. I could feel how distressed the ride made them and I want to give them time to calm.”

“oh shoot,” Syrup held the box closer to his chest and was alarmed to sense the negative emotions pouring out of his new friend. “I didn’t think about the ride being hard on them.”

“We’re used to it, they aren’t, it’s alright. We’ll figure something out once they’re established in our home,” Razzy smiled gently at Syrup. “Now, mask up and let’s get inside.”

Nodding Syrup followed silently behind, a scowl on his face. Of course his brother could feel how upset the bitty was, their box had been right up against his ribs, right in front of his soul. Poor bitty, and there was nothing he could have even done to make it easier. Maybe he should invest in a car after all, having his brother drive him everywhere was just dumb.

The two of them walked through the main hall and took the turn for their hallway, tense and ready if anyone spotted them. But no, no, everyone was busy and they made it into their door without hassle.

“Oh my STARS, Papyrus, I am so done.” Razzy flopped onto the sofa. “Let’s release our little friend and let them understand the lay of the land.”

Syrup is more than ready to do that, opening the flaps on the cardboard container and offering his hands. The bitty lifts their arms and he plucks them up and out before shaking their things out beside them.

\--

You sit cross legged on the coffee table in front of the sofa where the loud skeleton is sitting. Mutt gently shakes your blanket, book, and cushion out of the box before setting down in front of the couch, laying his chin on the table and smiling.

“Well,” the loud skeleton sighs and smiles in a surprisingly soft way, “welcome to our apartment, little one. My name is Sans, and this is my brother, Papyrus.” He’s wearing those long pink gloves and you’re very pleased with the way he moves his hands. Elegant, that’s the word. You are really starting to like him now that he’s not loud, also. “Outside of here, you’ll hear others call us Razzberry and Syrup, so feel free to use those names if you wish.”

You raise your hand, and Sans chuckles, “Yes?”

“Um…” you blush at his bemused expression, “then why were you calling Papyrus “mutt” in the store? That…sounded rude. I’m sorry.”

“don’ be,” Papyrus coos leaning his head over and looking at you sideways. His sockets have tiny little lights inside, how nice. “we jus’ have to pretend we don’t like each other outside’a here. ‘s a protection thing. same with this collar,” he leans up and pulls at the strip of black leather with silver studs in it you’d missed earlier. It had hid well in the neck of his sweater.

“He’s right. In this house, we can be ourselves, but outside, Papyrus and I have to pretend we merely tolerate each other. It’s…exhausting, honestly, but there we are. If no one knows we care for each other, they can’t use either of us against the other.” Sans rubs his sockets, but he still seems happy. “We came from a very bad place, but things are much easier here, so really it’s just so we can feel comfortable even if it’s no longer particularly necessary.”

“Okay. As long as you aren’t hurting each other. I don’t like it when people hurt their family,” you were going to be up front with them. Sans and Papyrus were going to deal with you from now on, so they deserved to know if you were going to be upset.

“heh, well, we’ll try to keep your contact with some’a our….cousins to a minimum then,” Papyrus shrugs, but he keeps looking at you very fondly. It makes your chest warm and you can’t help giving a little sound of happiness.

Sans seems to be thinking, then he sighs, “I think we should be totally honest here, brother. They are ours, and they will not be alerting any human or monster government.” He then puts his skull in his hands, “but how do we explain this?”

Looking at your things, Papyrus smile brightens as he sees your book, “you like to read, darlin’?”

Nodding, he takes your answer and continues, “okay, so y’know how every person tells the same story differently? How it’ll change depending on who tells it and when?”

“Yeah, that’s true.” You wonder where this is going.

“so our cousins, the other guys who live here,” Papyrus waves one hand toward the doorway that apparently lead out of the apartment, “are actually us, if someone else told the story. My pal, Honey, and his brother, are kinda like me’n Sans, but if we grew up in a world that was nice instead’a mean. And if I was older than Sans, that too.”

Your eyes widened, and you gasped, getting very excited, “That can happen?! That’s so cool!”

Sans and Papyrus laugh a bit at your reaction, and Sans nods, “It’s quite fascinating, yes. But this world is not our own. This world’s versions of us are who we call Classic and Creampuff. Classic is a lazy, secretive, somewhat friendly version of myself. He’s the technical owner of this hotel and the reason we all ended up here instead of our own homes.”

“was messing with a neat machine and fixed it wrong. was supposed to open communications between our worlds, but pulled us out here instead,” Papyrus adds as he gently scrubs his finger on your head, “but right now I’m kinda glad. Got to come here and meet you.”

You blush and squeal a little, shaking your hands to get the flustered energy out before just covering your face.

“you okay?” he asks, clearly concerned.

“Yeah,” you try to even out your breathing, remembering what Syrup told you in the shop.

“They’re happy, so…let’s take their word for it,” Sans nodded. “But anyway, Classic moved us all here since we couldn’t fit in his tiny house, and with all our pooled gold, it was simple to buy. But the ones we’ll have to keep you away from are the other…rough skeletons.”

“Rough?” Do they attack people? You hope that’s not the case.

Papyrus sighs, “basically, there’s four other guys who had it bad at home like we did. And two guys who….had it the worst out of everything. The four guys you’ll see around most would be Red, Edge, Grape, and Violet. Red’s fine, just kinda flirty if he thinks you’re cute, but Edge screams all the time, and I’m ashamed to share a name with him.”

“So you guys use Syrup and Razzberry because everyone has the same names? Sans and Papyrus?”

“yep,” Papyrus’ sockets close as he grins, “the only ones who use the real names outside the house are Classic and Creampuff. Cream’s my double, and he’s a sweetie. He’ll adore you. Same with Honey and his brother, Blueberry.”

“Blue is the Sans of those two,” Razzy huffs. “I thought he was childish, but he’s proved me wrong a time or two, and he’s NOTHING compared to Grape.”

You feel your head begin to hurt. “These are a lot of names with no faces. I think…I think I’d like to stop and get in some pajamas now, if that’s okay. Maybe take a bath?”

Jolting a bit, Sans gets up and beams, “Of course, sweetheart. I’m sorry for overwhelming you like that. It is a lot to take in all at once. We already have you a shower set up under our sink, and I’ll unbox all your new clothes and things so you can set up your area however you’d like.”

“but what do we call you, darlin’? you need a name.”

Papyrus’ gentle croon pulls you into thought as he strokes your hair. You like that. That feels good.

“I’m not sure. I don’t mind nicknames until we decide,” it wasn’t like you hadn’t lived your whole life without a name till now. You were just happy to be with Sans and Papyrus. With people who were pleased with you, who didn’t mind if you were different.

“If you’re sure,” Sans lifts you carefully into his arms, and you wiggle your feet eagerly at the soft feeling of his gloves and the smell of leather. You LOVE how leather smells, since it’s so different from anything you’re used to, so….earthy, you think the word is. “We’ll give you some privacy once you’re ready, and there are towels by the shower for you. Just call when you’re ready for your new clothes.”

His energy is different from Papyrus’, but you feel just as comfortable. He feels strong, and very sure of himself. You feel safe in his arms. Papyrus felt like your blanket, soft and comfy, a little playful. They’re different, but you like them both a lot.

\--

There’s a knock on the door as you and the brothers are watching a movie about a man trapped on Mars.

“I’ll get it,” Papyrus says as he stands. Seems he enjoys sitting on the floor. You don’t blame him, the carpets felt nice under your bare feet when you walked on them earlier.

The door is opened a little, and you can see Papyrus relax, “oh, hey, hon.”

“hey, syrup. So did you end up going to get your bitty today?” this voice was less gruff than Syrup’s but also brighter, happier somehow. That was a good voice.

“yeah, they’re here and settled in a bit. Lemme check if they’re good to meet someone new,” He looks back at you and you nod. You want to meet this person.

“okay, we got a yes. darlin’, this is honey. He’s my pal,” Syrup comes back and Honey closes the door behind him. He’s a little shorter than Syrup, but still very tall, and his teeth aren’t sharp, nor does he have a gold tooth. His bones look softer, no scars or nicks in them, and his little eye lights are a brighter, more golden orange. You wave and smile.

“ooh, you got a cutie. Hey, bud. They name you, yet?” he asks, and his smile is so handsome, going all over his face. He feels good to be around already.

“No, but we’re thinking about it,” you find your voice sounding chirpy, and that boosts your mood even more. You’re doing so good with people today!

Sans, whose lap your sitting on, rubs your arm a little, “Good evening, Honey. Blue still out?”

“yeah, he’s got the late shift at the movies tonight, but I couldn’t not come see the lil’ bean if they were here. they don’t have bitties in our hometown,” Honey says. Syrup whispers something to him and he gives a soft, “oooh,” of understanding. “our world, where me’n blue are from.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.” You frown. How do people find companions in a world without bitties?

“I’ll say.” Syrup sits on the floor and motions for Honey to join in, “we got the lil’ darlin’ here cause of bro having to be out so much.”

“Oh, your anxiety, right,” Honey nods, but he keeps looking over and you look up at Sans.

“Sans, can I sit with Honey for a minute? I’ll be okay.”

Honey’s smile tweaks up a bit, “Yeah, sans, Please?”

“You don’t call me Sans, sugar fiend,” Sans snorts, but he’s smiling as you climb down and sit on Honey’s leg, yours dangling between him and Syrup on the floor. “You’ve got your own brother to give that title to.”

“very true,” he says, and Syrup snickers a bit. The new skeleton’s attention is on you now, and he seems very interested, brow bones raised and lights bright. Monsters were so much easier to read than humans or other bitties. “so, you’re gonna help my buddy around the house? Be his shadow?”

“I guess so. I’d love to help him out,” no sense hiding your feelings. Syrup and Honey are friends, so he’ll be your friend, too.

Syrup explains as the movie is unpaused, “while bro has a job out in the world, I work on the electrical stuff around here. I’m pretty handy with it. but there’s not a lot to do about that, normally, so I feel kind of listless and jumpy. Bro thought a bitty would help me not get so deep in my own head when I don’t have a project.”

“we can make new projects,” Honey says, “I do the computer stuff around here, so I’m usually in the building all the time, too, if I’m not in the bunker with that stupid machine.”

“ugh, as much as I’m sure you’d be fine going home, I really wish classic would listen to the rest of us about that thing,” Syrup frowns and you feel the room become somber. Time to change that.

“What kind of books do you like reading, Honey? I like fairytales,” you offer, derailing the subject that had caused the shift in mood.

“Huh? oh….i’m more of an adventure guy. Like…spy thrillers and Indiana jones kind of stuff,” he grins and Syrup nods. “this guy likes scifi more though, right?”

“right,” Syrup’s mood lifts visibly as his shoulders go back to neutral from where they’d been creeping up to his neck. “hence the martian,” he gestures at the movie.

Sans is just watching the three of you, smiling a bit. You smile back at him to make sure he knows you’re happy still.

Honey looks you over again, then asks, “Hey, bud, its it okay if I kind of get a better look? Can I put you on the table?”

“Okay, just be careful with me,” that’s all you ask. You know Sans and Papyrus won’t let you get hurt.

“yeah, don’t break my new roomie,” Syrup teases, and you giggle as Honey gingerly lifts you and sets you back on the coffee table.

“huh, you really are just a little bitty human. all soft and warm,” Honey’s head tilts as his eye lights dart around.

“I am a very healthy 97.6 degrees Fahrenheit at all times, thank you!” you are proud of your knowledge. Bitties tended to run a degree colder than a typical human.

“good to know,” Syrup nods as Honey holds his hands out and you do the same.

“lookit those tiny fingers. Can’t imagine how little the bones are in there,” Honey’s finger bones are indeed smoother than Syrup’s, more like glass pebbles than the stone you’d felt before. They still have that magical give to them, though, so you aren’t uncomfortable as he feels the bone in your arm. “yeah, have you felt this, syrup? so adorably small.”

Blushing a bit, Syrup gently pulls you away from Honey’s grip and sets you in his lap, “uh, no, and now I feel awkward about it.” You shake of the goosebumps you always got on your head when someone was touching you so soft like Honey had been. Usually it was reserved for doctors, though.

“oops. Sorry, pal.” Honey stands up and brushes off the grey sweat pants he was wearing under his orange hoodie, “anyway, blue’ll be home soon and I said I’d make him some muffins for dessert tonight.”

“You’d best get on that,” Sans was smirking now, “You know best how he gets when he’s put out.”

“Oh you betcha,” Honey laughs softly, waving goodbye to you and the brothers. “you all take care, and I hope to see more of you, bitty bro.”

“Bye bye!” you call, and he leaves with a soft click of the door locking behind him. You turn to look up at Syrup, “You can feel my arm bones, too, if you want.” You didn’t mind. You did that sometimes on your own.

Syrup’s whole skull explodes in dark orange magic, glowing in the dim room as Razzy begins to cackle. You’re not sure why it’s funny, but you like that you made Razzy laugh.


End file.
